


Building Walls

by charlotteof_denmark



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Character Death Fix, Dark Abigail, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Revenge, Sad, Sexual Content, alana and beverly are bffs, alana and hannibal do the frickle frackle, alanas feelings, such sexy times, you are gonna cry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 19:10:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1439593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlotteof_denmark/pseuds/charlotteof_denmark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been three years. Will has been released, Alana and Hannibal are still psychiatrists, Abigail is still dead.<br/>Where's Will? What feelings does Alana have towards him? Is Abigail really gone? What is Hannibal hiding?</p><p>''When tomorrow starts without me, and I'm not here to see your eyes filled with tears for me, don't cry. Please don't cry. I'm always here and nothing can take me away. When tomorrow starts, don't think we're far apart. For every time you dream of me, I'm right here in your heart.''</p>
            </blockquote>





	Building Walls

Alana Bloom arrived from Hannibal’s house at about nine that evening. She ate dinner with him, had quite a bit of beer, but drove anyway. Hannibal had told her not to but he was in a similar state, so he let her go. They talked about their patients, Alana confided him some of her complicated emotions she felt towards Will Graham. When Will came back from the Baltimore State Hospital, three years ago, she didn’t speak to him for a whole month. Will didn't come back to the FBI. So she didn't see him for a whole month either. The dogs were transmitted back to him by Jack. It was terrible to let them go. Her house was so empty. Alana got used to coming home and being greeted by Winston and all the others. All that time, she’d been thinking about getting a puppy. But it wouldn't be the same.

Alana's house was a two-story villa with large windows. She moved in two years ago. There were two bedrooms, one for her and one for guests, which were rare. She was a lonely person. There was a big kitchen with red appliances and a dining room next to it with a breakfast table, since breakfast was almost the only meal she had at home. There was a hall that connected to a living-room containing a leather couch. The walls were a nice mint-gray green and a painting hung on the longest wall. Her television was screwed to the wall, sort of dominating the area. There were two bathrooms, one in her room upstairs, the other by the dining room. 

Alana came to the kitchen, but realized that she’d drunken enough for one night. She went to her room, changed into a big t-shirt and thin sweatpants. She went to her large bathroom, washed her face very thoroughly and applied a night cream. She brushed her teeth and put some lotion that Hannibal had given her for Christmas. She gave him a wine holder from Pottery Barn. He admitted not having one and thanked her with a small peck on the cheek. Christmas had passed weeks ago. She always thought of Hannibal. Every night after rubbing the lotion on her skin.   
She prepared herself to cozy up in front of some boring TV, getting a blanket and the remote but noticed that it was a bit messy and she barely ever had the time to clean, so she did it right then. Alana just passed by with the vacuum, picking things up along the way. There was a dog toy laying in a corner of the living room. A small bone. For a long moment, she wondered what it was doing there. It had been so long... Why did she find it right then? That was definitely the weirdest part of her day. One of the dogs, Cloe, often played with it. She threw it away in the garbage.

  
Then, she lay on the couch and thought about how this was never something she and Hannibal could do. He always took her to the opera, expositions, grape picking, wine tasting and even wine making sometimes. Hannibal didn’t even have a TV. But Will… Will would do that. He was probably someone who hated television, but he would watch it for sure. Sitting next to her. An arm around her shoulders. Not moving. Just breathing. Falling asleep. Hannibal wasn’t ordinary enough. Alana wasn’t even sure how to define her relationship with him. Growing up without a father, she saw him as an example. Finding him irresistible when he touched her, relating to him when he talked about his difficult patients, being friendly when they were drunk. He never told her he loved her, but he always told her how nice she smelled.  
It was weird.  
If she were her own patient, she’d tell herself not to do this. But it had been three years.  
She said the same thing for Will.  
What was she holding back?  
There was an ache inside of her heart, not necessarily dark, but constantly pounding, knotting, creating an uneasy feeling in her throat. It was unspeakable. Maybe if a piece could get in the hole, the pain would stop. But she got used to the missing piece. It never even cross her mind to fill it. Ignoring it and analyzing it was better, it seemed.   
Alana was about to fall asleep when the doorbell rang.

No one ever came to her house. She didn’t have many friends, and most of them lived in her hometown. It was almost ten thirty.  
She decided not to get up, but a moment later, someone knocked, and knocked hard. A pounding sound. She walked through the hall, passing by the kitchen, the dining room, and without hesitation and a bit of frustration, slammed the door open.

It was a young woman with messy hair. She wore a large knitted sweater and an unbuttoned coat over it. She had ripped jeans and boots. Her coat seemed to have blood spatter on it, but Alana couldn’t tell in the darkness. There were purple circles under her eyes, probably a lack of sleep. She had a rucksack on her back. Her eyes glimmered of a turquoise blue. She looked eager for something, hungry even. But the thing Alana noticed above all was an old scar at the bottom of her neck. 

'Dr. Bloom,' she said, her voice monotone and  clear as crystal. 'You didn't forget me, did you?'  

 

.

 

 


End file.
